


The Curious Girl With That Look On Her Face

by klynnvakarian



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Background story, Developing Relationship, F/M, in game violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klynnvakarian/pseuds/klynnvakarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Mage Messy', doesn't that just sound like a bunch of bored teenagers?" She pulls a face as the needle finds its way in to her finger, "To be fair it wasn't the worst I could have been called."</p>
<p>A small story of Mesaana Trevelyan, her experiences and her developing relationship with The Iron Bull</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mesaana is my first mage in any of the Dragon Age games and I just sort of fell in love with her, so I've tried to write a bit more of her story. Some of her thoughts, and her choices.

_I've seen the curious girl with that look on her face.  
So surprised she stares out from her display case._

Screaming. A pained moaning followed by the clear howl of new life, calling out its place in the world just entered. The infant wailed and lashed out with tiny pink fists. A round of cheers filled the room.

"A girl, mistress!" The serving girl called out as the Midwife rubbed a soft cloth over a shock of dark hair. After severing connection between womb and babe, the squirming bundle was cleaned and swaddled before being handed over to outstretched arms. 

A daughter, my daughter.

After three sons her heart had been closed to the idea of one more son to divide the estates with…but this was different. Nine long months of carrying dread in her heart along with the newest member of the household, and now her heart was slowly filling back up. Lady Trevelyan ran her fingertips softly over the girl's face, smoothing out the wrinkles as the babe began to cry herself out. Small hiccupping sobs that she began to shush, lightly tapping her forefinger against the open mouth. The servants moved around the room talking amongst themselves, gathering soiled bed sheets, and bringing in fresh water as they passed the news of a successful birth to those coming in to the birthing chamber. Word would travel fast and soon the Bann along with kith and kin would begin celebrating. 

"Mesaana." She called out, voice not quite back to the usual level of commanding, but sharp enough that the midwife looked up from her work at the foot of the bed. "Her name will be Mesaana." 

At long last a child that would properly be a reflection of her. Someone she would have a direct hand in bringing up, teaching and training her as she taught flowering vines to climb trellis in her private gardens. Her sons had been pulled out her arms as soon as they could walk, starting their own training in the ways of men, Lady Trevelyan pursed her lips thoughts lingering on the fate her brood. A sole heir, first born and handsome. A second son to inherit a smaller portion and lucky to marry a second or third daughter of another house, and finally a third set aside for Andraste herself. Even as a third child he would still have the option to become a Templar, as a Trevelyan he was sure to make Knight-Commander quickly. Maker knows if this child had been another boy he would have been spirited away to the chantry and a life in the priesthood. Tucked away and entirely forgotten.

"A lovely name M'Lady, sounds a bit like a rain it does. A nice light rain after a thunderstorm, Maker knows she was as loud as thunder when she came out."

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Had she known this moment would come she would have ordered the Midwife out of the estate, out of Ostwick, would not have been above murdering the woman herself. All around her were voices, her third son Lucien was in tears, her second son was shouting and Mesaana was trembling. The smell of burning was already leaving the courtyard on the spring breeze.

"Demon!"

"Mother please!"

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

This couldn't be happening to her. Not this family. Not after everything she had done for the Maker, a life of servitude, of turning the other cheek to her husband's discretions a life of promised children to flaming Andraste and the bloody Chantry. Not to her.

Lucien had been chasing his sister around the garden. Mesaana had called out to her elder brother Gabriel for help but he had only looked on as he talked with his mother. The household, his potential bride? All of the details had vanished from Lady Trevelyan's mind. Mesaana had fallen, shrieking and throwing her hands up to shield her face before Lucien could fall upon her and then it had happened. A stillness fell before a flash of light surrounded her daughter and a sharp hissing that ended as soon as it began.

Gabriel jumped to his feet putting himself between the children and the Lady of the house; he was the first to shout that horrible word. Lucien had been knocked over, retching into the decorative pond, tears pouring down his round face. He had always been dramatic, his choice of words directed as his sister were more emotional than practical. Mesaana was shaking and calling for her mother, small hands clutched to her chest with portions of hair standing on end pulling out of the braiding she had patiently sat through only a few hours ago.

"Lucien, come here." Lady Trevelyan had remained seated, hands so steady she was almost surprised she beckoned her son over. His arm hung limply by his side, sleeve absolutely ruined, shiny red skin showing through. "Gabriel, go find Ser Quillon and tell him to bring Ser Logahn and Ser Rachel." She motioned him away, and she watched with a fleeting bit of pride his smooth bow and the grace he carried himself with even as he hurried out of the garden.

"Do not move." All of the love she had carried for this single daughter was gone, wiped away in a single flash of light. A sweet, dutiful, but shameful daughter was all that was left. Her eyes were locked on to Mesaana who had gone pale but had not cried, lips trembling she met her mother's stare and had not yet looked away.

Mage.

That single word filled Lady Trevelyan's mind and for a moment everything else was forgotten until the sounds of armored feet on paving stones reached her ears. Confusion was on all three of the guard's faces as they took in the scene. Ser Quillon was the first to realize just what kind of disaster had claimed the day, face shifting from concern to impassive as he addressed his Lady. The remaining guards watched Mesaana but restrained from helping her up from the ground.

"You called My Lady?"

"Escort her to her rooms and stand watch. Ser Rachel if you would be so kind as to aid in packing her things. Clothes and personal kit only mind, and await further instruction there. You may restrain her if necessary." Her tone was crisp leaving no room for argument and she pulled Lucien closer to her and began to stroke his wavy hair.

Mesaana made a small choking noise, the tears she had held back made their way down her face. Ser Quillon was the first to approach her and he pulled her up by her arms gently. Putting her between himself and the younger Ser Logahn they made their way out of the garden and in to the estate proper leaving a mother to comfort her son.

 

“I didn’t want to hurt him, I only wanted him to stop chasing me.” Her small voice surprised the two knights as they stood watch in her chambers. Ser Rachel cleared her throat and looked out the large window obviously uncomfortable by her charge, young as she may be. Sparing a moment to look down the hall before making his way over to kneel in front of the chair Mesaana was seated in, Ser Logahn spoke just as softly.

“Do you understand what is happening now petite maîtresse?” 

Mesaana nodded slowly but kept her eyes down. She kept her hands in her lap with her fingers laved together; she had hardly unclasped them since they had arrived. Rachel was glaring at her fellow knight, after throwing a few things into a leather travelling bag she had distanced herself from the situation and couldn’t understand why he hadn’t.

“You will be leaving home now, just as I left my home in Orlais to become a knight in this house and serve. Only you will be serving Andraste and all the children of the Maker in the Circle of Magi.”

Ser Rachel made a rude noise and stalked over to the door, she tossed the bag on to the floor of the hallway and looked up and down the hall waiting for Ser Quillon to return. She folded her arms over her chest and looked everywhere but Mesaana.   
"She is going to be locked up where she belongs." 

"Hush." Logahn stood as he heard voices approaching the room. Quillon and another house guard he didn't recognize entered. The older man put himself in the middle of the room, his mouth was stern but his eyes were soft. More than a little sad at the turn of events for a child he has known since she was a day old.

"It is time. Word has already been sent ahead to Ostwick tower, we leave within the hour. Is everything prepared?" Nods answered him and with a cool sternness he motioned them out.

"Come along petite poupée, we must begin this new chapter, no?"

Mesaana took the hand that was offered, carrying a smaller bag than the one that was already packed for her. Her hair was still a mess and she never took her eyes off of the floor. Only walked along following people she had never not known to be around the estate out in to a new life that she could not understand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I didn't apologize for the French I may have slaughtered in the first chapter. Apologies. Also I have no beta.

_And came to rest upon a beach,_  
With a million others there.  
We sat and waited for the sea   
To stretch out so that we could disappear 

"They used to call me 'messy'."

Josephine stops writing, she is wondrous at multitasking but this gets her full attention. The ambassador has been asking her questions about life in Ostwick Tower for the better part of an hour. Mesaana meanwhile sits cross-legged on the floor behind the desk, mending the vest that she has torn, again, on her way back to Haven. She never learned proper embroidery as a noble’s daughter but seeing to her own robes for server years taught the young mage the more practical side of needlework.

Josephine glances over her a golden shoulder, "They did not." 

"'Mage Messy', doesn't that just sound like a bunch of bored teenagers?" She pulls a face as the needle finds its way in to her finger, "To be fair it wasn't the worst I could have been called."

"Did your family name mean so little?" Josephine blots the ink still drying before her and moves on to another piece of parchment. She has been pouring over ledgers and balance sheets most of the day; the small talk has been a nice distraction. Hoping to make more progress in clearing the desk tonight but if she wasn't working she wasn't needed.

"Only to some of the Templars," She shrugs, "some were cousins or had trained with one. I don't know. I wasn't really prepared to deal with so many other people in such close quarters. Especially not the other girls."

Josephine turns in her chair with a small smile, she knows what it is like to have a sister and can only imagine how difficult an adjustment the Herald would have gone through suddenly surrounded. No more terrifying than the position she is currently in now surely. Then again she was at least more than a child.

"And was there no one you were, close to?" She seals an envelope with some wax and makes a mental note, no she better write that down as well, to get more sealing wax.

Mesaana curls a little more over her project and clears her throat. Her face feels warm and she knows Josephine can see the blush easily on her pale skin even with the ever-present redness over her cheeks and nose. Ruddy her nursemaid called her and the Lady Trevelyan had hated it. She can hear Josephine draw in an excited breath. She finishes the last of her stitching before answering wrapping the extra thread around the needle and places it in the small supply box next to her.

"There was a Templar." She finally admits, making eye contact with her advisor briefly, "No relation of course and he was older than me."

"Much older? That must have been quite scandalous." She is now fully invested in this story; from what she knows of the Herald so far she would not have guessed she would be such a romantic. From the little she knows of life in the Tower her mind runs with the idea of a scandal. She straightens herself in the chair and crosses her ankles, ready to hear the rest of this story. Mesaana's cheeks go darker and she closes her eyes in embarrassment, she won't look at Josephine when she answers.

"Oh no, nothing like that. It was just a fancy really. Nothing illicit in a dark corner," she laughs a bit awkwardly, "just staring out of the corner of my eye and trying to get messenger assignments between classes so I could see him."

"Herald, I must say, that is the sweetest thing I have ever heard about the circle. What happened? I had heard that the rebellion was not so extreme in Ostwick." 

"So they decided that even though they had tossed me out that my family name might hold some weight at the conclave and I prepared to leave. I saw it as an escape, butI was terrified, I had made a home there you know? I wanted to make a big deal of it though, so I talked one of the boys in to helping me with this," She pointed to the shaved side of her head, " wanted to look tough, roguish. And as I was walking out of the Tower I saw him."

"And?" Josephine pressed the younger woman for more, two more messengers had come in throughout this story and she had shooed them away as quickly as courtesy would allow.

"And I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his armor and laid one on him. Honestly it was the bravest thing I've ever done in my life." There is a huge grin on her face and she uses both hands to cover it up. She folds herself double so that her forehead is touching her folded legs and talks to the floor. "When I was finished I just walked away. Kept walking past everyone there to see us off and I got on the horse they had waiting for me. I don't know what I was thinking, and no one even tried to talk to me about it. It was awful." 

Josephine has abandoned all pretense of keeping a straight face and is laughing quite loudly now.

"Oh! Oh I'm so sorry." She finally manages to get out, she should feel worse for doing so right to the Herald's face but Mesaana is smiling. She has unfolded herself and doesn't seem to Josephine nearly as uncomfortable as she was moments ago. The ambassador dabs at the corner of her eyes with the delicate cuff of her shirt, “I was not expecting the story to end that way.”

Mesaana collects her vest and mend kit and stands, stretching her arms up over her head.  
“I should let you get back to work. We’ll talk another time.”

Josephine is still chuckling, “Another time.” She agrees and turns her chair back to her desk.

Closing the heavy door as softly as she can the mage makes her way past Mother Giselle, giving her a small wave, and walks in to the fading light outside of the chantry.

“Excuse me.”

She stops at a young man who doesn’t look much older than herself. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and gives the mage what she is sure is his best smile, so she smiles back.

“I’ve got a message for the Inquisition but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.” 

“Who are you soldier?” She tucks her bundle under one arm and hears him out. She enjoys not being recognized, as far as he can tell she’s just a messenger on an errand. She learns his name is Krem and she asks everything she can think of about The Iron Bull and he is surprised by her interest but answers anyway.

“We’ll consider your offer.” Mesaana states in her best Herald of Andraste tone.

Krem laughs, “I appreciate the thought. Will you be coming out to the coast as well then?” he crosses his arms and leans towards her.

“I might tag along.” She waves at him and continues on her way deciding to talk to Harrit before the night is over and see what she can get for an outing to the coast.


End file.
